Clint's Turn
by jacedesbff
Summary: For the first time ever on a mission, Clint is called upon to be the seducer and Natasha to be his support.
1. Prologue

**I wrote this for the LJ be_compromised Promptathon pr****ompt from sunny_serenity: "'**_**n**__**ext time, i get to seduce the rich guy**__**.' **_**O****r how clint becomes the honey trap and is so successful with his sassy self it kind of makes natalia jealous of his talent. (bonus points if the whole team is involved)****. I'm kind of in love with this prompt. I think I'm going to turn it into a multi-chapter fic if there's a good response. Because this just turned out to**** be way too much fun!**

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Coulson interrupted their sparring session to ask Barton and Romanoff to report to Fury's office in 15 minutes. Ever the obedient minions, they showed up to the Director's office at the exact time specified – still in workout clothes and not having showered. Surely they cleared the halls on their way there, and hopefully Coulson and Fury would think twice before interrupting their training time again. Well, probably not, but at least the message had been sent.

Sure it had. Coulson didn't even raise an eyebrow as the two of them walked in and sat down.

"We have a window of opportunity that we need to exploit immediately," Fury began without preamble. "Our target was just dumped and has a history of jumping into rebound relationships. The target is also known for sharing intel with those rebounds."

"Have the bad guys considered not telling this guy any secrets?" asked Barton, sitting somewhat slouched in his chair.

"I'm sure it's crossed their mind, Agent Barton," the Director's answer was dry personified. "But Abri's father dotes on her and he has enough power in the South African underworld to defend her. More importantly, to date her relationships have been with other bad guys."

Clint sat up straighter. "Her? It's a her?" A smile spread across his face. Clint loved it when Natasha's marks were female. The occasional twinges that the sniper felt (and worked very hard to deny existed) when Natasha came onto men made absolutely no appearance when his partner came on to a woman. While Natasha didn't hate it, Clint knew that the woman he loved preferred men, which left him free to enjoy the show. And, well...all those curves...all in the same place...

Natasha rolled her eyes at her partner's reaction.

"Yes, it is," replied Fury, and only people very, very good at reading difficult-to-read people would be able to tell that the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. was holding back a smile. "But Agent Romanoff isn't the honey trap, Barton. You are."

The smile appeared on Natasha's face as fast as it left Clint's.

"What? Me—no—you don't—" Clint spluttered, clearly at a loss for words.

"Abri Van de Merwe likes a man's man, Agent Barton. She likes the rugged type – won't have anything to do with pretty boys."

"What, now I'm not pretty?" Clint's indignation proved the decisive factor – Fury couldn't hold back his smile any longer.

"Calm down. I'm sure she'll find you quite attractive," the Director allayed the archer's ego with a verbal eye roll.

Natasha let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a snort. Clint shot her a death glare; Natasha just smiled bigger.

"We have a few agents we would normally give this kind of assignment to," continued Fury, ignoring the byplay between his agents. "Men as proficient at seduction as Agent Romanoff. But our psychologists tell us that they're not Abri's type. You are." Fury's tone made it clear that the selection of Clint for this assignment was neither arbitrary nor up for debate.

"Let's not forget, Agent, that you also have the benefit of a partner who is the best in this field. I have confidence in her ability to help you successfully complete this assignment."

Clint, who never flinched at any mission ever, rubbed his hands over his face.

"She's 18?" he asked dejectedly. "Come on, Director. I'm gonna feel like a sleaze."

Fury was well-practiced at ignoring specious arguments from his employees.

"Abri's father is currently acting as the go-between for the heads of South Africa's two biggest drug traffickers. Word is that the two sides are trying to team up to corner the south Atlantic drug trade from Africa to the Americas. If these two organizations stop killing each other off long enough to talk civilly, there is every chance that they could do just that. We would expect the drug traffic to as much as double from the African continent. This cannot be allowed to happen. Agent Barton, you need to infiltrate Van de Merwe's camp, use Abri to find out the details of the summit, then you and Agent Romanoff need to ensure that it is a massive failure. Make sure these two groups spend the next several years taking each other out. Do not under any circumstances let them align themselves together. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," the agents said together, Clint slightly stunned, Natasha rather gleeful.

"Agents," Coulson said from behind them. It was the first time he had spoken since his agents had entered. "I have the rest of your mission brief here." He held up two file folders. "If you'll come with me." Their handler indicated the door.

Natasha couldn't wipe the smile off of her face. She couldn't believe how much she was looking forward to this. Probably about as much as Clint was not.

To be continued...


	2. Distance

There was a very good response to the Prologue, so it looks like there's definitely an interest in this idea. This chapter is a bit exposition-y, but it's important to what comes next. Hope you enjoy! :-)

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After leaving Fury's office, Clint and Natasha took quick showers, grabbed their go-bags and weapons and met again as they climbed aboard the Quinjet. Phil had given his agents a quick overview as they walked to their dorm rooms and provided them with complete files as they came together at the plane. He also tasked Natasha with instructing Clint on the fine and subtle art of covert seduction during the flight.

Abri Van de Merwe was the only child of Daniel and Monique Van de Merwe. Monique died when her daughter was five, the victim of a drunk driver on the streets of Cape Town. This left the little girl in the hands of a rather cold, distant father who proceeded to whore his way through every cold, distant woman he could find. Daniel had little warmth and less time for his small daughter, and Abri spent the majority of her childhood with nannies and private tutors, isolated even from potential school friends.

The one bright spot in the girl's life was her maternal grandfather, a retired Army colonel who lived in the city of George on the opposite coast of South Africa. Phillip Roux was a kind, self-secure man who enjoyed outdoor activities, the military and fixing up his home. He took Abri to the mountains, sailing, taught her how to shoot a gun and made sure the young girl felt appreciated. Young Abri spent a month each summer with her grandfather before he passed away seven years after her mother when the girl was twelve.

Since her grandfather's unexpected death from a heart attack, Abri Van de Merwe had sought out replacements for him in her life. Initially she appeared to be looking for a new father figure, but over time the relationships had become less paternal and, according to reports, more romantic. Most recently she had been dumped by the lieutenant of a local crime lord for undisclosed reasons, although rumor had it that the lieutenant was heavily pressured by his commander and by Abri's father.

Daniel Van de Merwe had fired his daughter's bodyguard for failing to prevent the liaison, even though his daughter had become an expert at slipping her protection, and Van de Merwe was looking to a different company to provide a new bodyguard. The man always hired from outside sources in order to maintain his impartiality within the South African criminal community. S.H.I.E.L.D. saw to it that the company chosen was one of their fronts and Clint, now to be known as Jeremy Barron from Illinois, was expected on the Van de Merwe's doorstep the next afternoon.

"They certainly picked the right man for the job," noted Natasha, looking up from the file.

Clint sighed.

"Comfortable with himself, physically fit, military, guns, older than her, can play the part of a bodyguard..." his partner enumerated.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Clint huffed petulantly.

Natasha gave her partner a measured look. She knew he was irritated. She also knew that Clint had the span of this flight to accept his new role in order for their mission to be a success. Fortunately for both of then, she knew her partner very well and she had a pretty good idea at least part of what was actually bothering him.

"You can't watch from a distance on this one." It was an observation, not an instruction.

Clint leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

"When I worked for the Red Room-" Clint opened his eyes. Natasha never spoke of her time there. Never. "—I seduced men because I had to. Because if I didn't, my handlers would have killed me." She leveled a gaze at her partner. "Then I was on my own, and I did it for money. Then I came to S.H.I.E.L.D. You brought me to S.H.I.E.L.D., and I didn't have to do that anymore. I didn't have to entice men to earn my keep. I still do it, though. Do you know why?"

Clint considered his partner. She paused and waited for him to answer.

"To even out your ledger?" It was a genuine question.

"And how is that? How does killing people help even out my ledger?" she asked. "It's because now I'm trying to make the world safer. That's why S.H.I.E.L.D. exists, right? Because what we do makes the world a better place."

Natasha had her partner's undivided attention.

"I don't follow blindly anymore. If I had a serious problem with an assignment, I would tell Fury, I would tell Coulson, I would tell you. S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't perfect, but it's not the Red Room and it's not the highest bidder. Fury told us what's at stake, Clint. This can't happen, and you're the guy that can stop it. S.H.I.E.L.D. needs you to do this. And they need you to do it because S.H.I.E.L.D. is trying to keep the world a safer place."

Natasha finished and for a moment, there was quiet.

Looking his partner in the eye, Clint nodded.

Natasha gave her partner a nod in response and moved on to helping him prepare.

"The point here is for you to be yourself. Who you are as a person is what's going to appeal to this girl. That being said, you have to keep your emotional distance."

Clint let a small grimace slip. There were a lot of reasons he watched from a distance, one of the many of which was that when he got to know people, he often came to feel for them. To avoid that, ergo, he kept his distance.

Natasha knew exactly what Clint was thinking.

"You have to get to know her well enough to use it against her at the same time you stay emotionally separate so that you _can_ use it against her." As Clint looked down, Natasha chased his eyes with her own, forcing him to look up at her. "You can do this, Clint. It's not what you usually do, but you're more than capable. You know that." Her voice was firm.

Clint nodded. He was. He didn't have to like it, but he was indeed capable of fulfilling this assignment. The archer took a deep breath. It was time to man up and move on.

He and Natasha spent the rest of the trip going over the mission parameters, discussing strategies as well as plans for how to keep in communication and sabotage the criminal summit.

The Quinjet landed in good time and for the first time in their partnership, Clint headed for the mark and Natasha headed for high ground.

Time to go to work.

To be continued...

**Let me know what you think! **


	3. First Impressions

A black man dressed in servant's livery answered the door and ushered Clint into the opulent living room where he stood as he waited for Daniel Van de Merwe. Looking around at the ostentatiously expensive furnishings and decorations, it was clear that Van de Merwe liked to display his wealth, perhaps trying to intimidate his guests with his monetary strength and power.

Yep, Clint was intimidated. Oh, yeah.

The criminal facilitator kept the archer-cum-bodyguard waiting for 15 minutes past their meeting time, even though Clint arrived 15 minutes early. The archer had to wonder exactly how insecure this Van de Merwe was.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," said a tall, brown-haired man as he bustled importantly into the room. He continued in an extremely heavy South African accent. "Conference call ran long."

"Daniel Van de Merwe," the newly arrived man stuck out his hand, which Clint shook.

"Jeremy Barron."

"Nighthawk said you're the best," observed Van de Merwe as he sat down on the luxurious leather couch Clint had been staring at for half an hour.

"I haven't lost any clients," Clint replied. "That's what counts."

"Why are you here, then?" asked Van de Merwe as he lit up a large cigar. "If your most recent client isn't dead?"

"I specialize in high-risk situations," explained the 'bodyguard'. "Once things settle down, a long-term guard is assigned and I move on."

Van de Merwe didn't seem too happy with that.

"I wasn't aware you weren't the permanent bodyguard."

"You told Nighthawk that you're in the middle of sensitive negotiations and are worried that someone will try to exploit your daughter to gain intel on the situation. You provided a timeframe of seven to ten days. I am here to see your daughter through that time period, after which a permanent guard will take over."

"And you're the best?"

"I've never lost a client, Mr. Van de Merwe, and as I said, I work high-risk missions."

"Almost as much of a paradox as 'military intelligence', aren't you?"

Clint supposed it was a plus that at least the man wasn't stupid.

"What kind of influence are you worried about trying to compromise your daughter, Mr. Van de Merwe? My briefing didn't provide details."

In his first overt sign of weakness, the tall man sighed.

"My daughter is...lonely. She doesn't make friends easily."

_It probably doesn't help that you keep her hidden in here like a princess in a tower_, thought Clint.

"I work in a dangerous business, Mr. Barron. Not all of the men I work with have scruples. A few of them have tried to manipulate my daughter into believing they were in love with her. In exchange for their favors, they demand information, which my child does not have. I am afraid this is going to get her killed."

Not once since the man had entered the room had Van de Merwe referred to his daughter by name. It was either 'my daughter' or 'my child'. No wonder the kid was desperate for attention.

"Are you more worried about her getting out or others getting in?" asked Clint.

"Yes," answered Van de Merwe. "For the next week and a half, my daughter must be contained. She must be kept safe from those who would wish her harm, or who would threaten her for not providing information she does not have."

"What kind of exposure does she have outside of your home?"

Van de Merwe looked put upon. "Trips to the Cape Town fashion district a few times a week, local fashion shows. Whatever – it keeps her happy. Well, it used to. Lately, though... Well, your predecessor is gone for a reason, isn't he?" The man stood up. "Nighthawk has a reputation for excellence, Mr. Barron. Keep my daughter alive and uncompromised on her trips and at home. Communicate with my head of security if you're heading off our property. And in a week, after I've made more money than the government of South Africa pulls in in a year, Nighthawk can send in someone else to ask me all of these questions."

"Yes, sir."

Van de Merwe headed for the door. Right before he walked out, though, he turned out and leveled a gaze at Clint.

"If this is the first mission where you fail, Mr. Barron, it better be because you're dead, because if you're not, you'll wish you were when I get through with you."

"Yes, sir."

Van de Merwe exited.

"What a jackass." Natasha's voice sounded in Clint's ear for the first time since he entered the building.

Knowing that Van de Merwe would hear him if he said anything, Clint didn't respond. Instead, he nodded to the same servant who had answered the door and now reappeared to pick up his bags, gesturing for Clint to follow.

Natasha kept talking as Clint and the servant moved into the house.

"Safe for remote broadcast. Make a sign if you can still hear me."

Clint coughed.

"I couldn't say anything until I masked our signal. We're covered now, so we're good to communicate."

Clint coughed again.

"Okay, **I **can communicate." There was a brief pause after which Natasha continued. "I never understood why you were so chatty on comms before. But when your partner can't say anything in response, you really do want to keep talking, don't you?"

Clint cleared his throat. Again. This time the servant looked back at him, a question in his eyes.

"I'm fine," he answered the unspoken query. "Change in climate."

"it's your delicate constitution."

He was going to kick her ass. Seriously. Never mind that she usually wiped the floor with him when they trained. He was gonna go postal on her. He really was.

"Should I make a run for cough drops?"

"Do you speak English?" Clint asked the servant, who looked back at him with a nod. "Where are we heading?" Once more, the servant nodded, this time in the direction they were headed.

That was helpful.

"I speak English," said his hearing aid/earpiece. "If that helps."

It was hard to figure out who was being _more_ helpful – the mute servant or his chatty partner. Seriously, who was this woman and what had she done with his real partner?

The butler showed Clint to his room where he dropped off his bags, then to the security control room, where Clint met the head of Van de Merwe's own task force, a tightly-wound former British Special Forces soldier named William Stewart, who was about as communicative as the servant who brought Clint in.

"She's been sneaking out lately," was the most useful thing Stewart had to say. "Her last idiot bodyguard almost lost us our contract. As it was, Van de Merwe refused to let us bring in a replacement, going with _your firm _instead."

"Professional jealousy. That'll get the job done," said Natasha softly in his ear.

"Karl," Stewart said to the still-present servant, who apparently had a name. "Show Mr. Barron to the girl's suite," effectively dismissing them both.

_The girl_. Right.

Karl knocked on a door and a soft voice called for them to come in.

"Miss Abri, your new bodyguard, Mr. Jeremy Barron."

It was worth noting that Karl was the first person to say Abri's name. The butler bowed and left, closing the door behind him.

Abri Van de Merwe was slight with brown hair and brown eyes and even though she was sitting down, appeared to be about the 5'4" that his dossier had indicated. She also gave off the immediate impression of being more timid and nervous than Clint expected.

"Hello, Abri. Do you mind if I call you that?"

The petite brunette quietly shook her head.

"Call me Jeremy."

No response.

"Do you mind if we have a talk, Abri?"

A soft head nod.

Clint pulled up a chair. Based on his first 30 seconds with her, the archer had an idea of how to proceed.

"Your father and Mr. Stewart both mentioned that you haven't been happy lately, that you've been sneaking off."

Abri blushed lightly and looked down.

"That wasn't your idea, was it?"

She shook her head.

"Abri? Abri?" he called softly until she looked up. "Was it your boyfriend's idea for you to sneak out?"

Blushing again, Abri nodded.

"Have you heard from him since he broke up with you?"

Tears pricked in the young girl's eyes as she shook her head, still not having said a word since Clint entered the room.

"But if he did contact you, you would do your best to meet him, wouldn't you?"

Abri's eyes flew wide and she froze under Clint's gaze.

"I'm not going to try to stop you, and I'm not going to tell your father or Mr. Stewart if you try to leave."

"You're not?" Her voice was high-pitched and tremulous, right in line with what Clint had expected.

"I don't work for your father, Abri. I'm here for you."

"My dad pays you," she said softly.

"No, he doesn't, my company does."

"But..." her voice trailed off.

"Your dad called my company and, yes, he pays them. But he asked them for someone to protect _you_. My company pays me to protect you. Your father doesn't factor in as far as I'm concerned."

Stunned, she breathed, "Really?"

"Really. And if you feel like you need to go somewhere, I need to know that you're going to tell me."

"But you're supposed to tell my father."

"My job is to protect you. If that means making sure you have protection when you sneak out, so be it."

"You really wouldn't tell him?"

"I really wouldn't."

"What if Mr. Stewart wanted to know?"

"Mr. Stewart doesn't even work for the same company I do. Screw him."

Abri let us a surprised giggle.

Clint decided to trust his instincts.

"Besides, if you don't trust me enough to tell me if you were going somewhere, you might get hurt, and then my partner would hurt me."

Brows furrowed, Abri asked, "You have a partner?"

"We don't work together all the time, but when I do work with someone, it's her."

"Your partner's a girl?" Abri was clearly surprised.

"Only person I've ever been willing to call my partner," Clint assured her.

"Why would she care if something happened to me?"

"Talia has very high standards. If I let something happen to a client, she'd kick my ass into next week. Trust me, woman scares me."

Abri giggled again.

This young woman was either completely at the mercy of the people around her or was as good of an actress as Natasha. Clint had been partners with the Russian long enough to reserve final judgment.

"If she's a woman, are you and she..." Abri's voice trailed off as she blushed scarlet and looked back down.

"No," Clint answered with a laugh of his own. Talia and I have never been involved romantically, just at work."

"Why not?"

"Well," Clint began before stopping to think about how to answer the question.

"It's complicated?" prompted Abri hopefully. She was clearly desperate for friends and hoping to make a new one in Clint.

"Talia and I put our lives in each others' hands every time we go on a mission together," Clint decided to begin. "There is no one in the world I would trust to have my back like her. She's my best friend. I mean, I can tell her anything."

Clint was being considerably more open with Abri Van de Merwe than he usually was with, you know, _anyone_, but every instinct he had told him this is what he needed to do.

"How long have you worked together?"

"Six years. She used to work for a rival firm. I recruited her and we've been working together ever since."

"And you've never had feelings for?"

Clint gave a sighing laugh. "Another complicated question. I have feelings for her, but are those feelings love or just really strong friendship? I can't say I haven't given it thought. Trust me, she's gorgeous, and while I'm not as good-looking as she is, I don't have to wear a paper bag over my head, either." This illicited a sweet little titter and a nod. "I've wondered if I love her. I have. But I decided that our partnership was more important, so I work with her and if I feel like dating, I find someone else."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No. I've dated a couple of ladies, but no one seriously."

"What does Talia think?"

"That I should find a woman who can stand up to her."

"Is that possible?"

Clint snorted. "Hardly. Such a woman does not exist."

"What kind of woman do _you_ like to date?"

"One I'm not afraid of."

Abri laughed and blushed again.

"Abri, I have a question for you."

She looked at him openly, willingly to answer whatever he asked.

"Did anyone ever ask you how you got out? When your boyfriend helped you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, did anyone ever sit down with you and ask you to walk them through how you did it?"

"No. They just figured it out by going over CCTV, I think."

"You know we backwards Americans call those surveillance tapes, right?"

Abri was clearly a big giggler.

"Well, Abri, I think it's high time someone ask you to show off a little. And don't worry, I won't tell Mr. Stewart what you show me. I just want to make sure you can't use it to hide from _me_."

Clint held out his hand and Abri immediately took it, letting him pull her up. As they left the room, the young girl actually skipped, excited to show off for her new friend.

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A half a mile away in the rented apartment above the greengrocer located just outside of the Van de Merwe's neighborhood, Natasha felt something akin to awe. Clint Barton, distance assassin and one of the best archers in the world, had just shown serious chops in his first espionage contact.

Not only had he gotten Abri to think of him as a friend by simply being himself, he had made her feel like _he_ trusted _her_ by telling her about his partner, which even someone who had just met him could tell the man didn't talk about often. Beyond that, he managed to leave the door open for a possible romance with the mark by first of all explaining how he and his partner weren't dating and second, by describing the kind of girl he liked to date as someone he wasn't afraid of, which definition the mark clearly fit.

He also hadn't denigrated the girl's "boyfriend" for getting her to sneak out, going so far as to give credit to Abri by having her be the one to show him how she got out.

_Didn't know how to do it my ass_.

Much like Clint, Natasha hadn't decided if Abri's retiring demeanor was genuine or a very good act, but Clint was performing brilliantly thus far.

There was something, though, that was worrying at the back of Natasha's mind like a mosquito she couldn't swat away.

Natasha couldn't say that the majority of her and Clint's partnership had been spent on headsets, but she would describe those hours and days as the most intense. As a result, she had become quite skilled at interpreting his comm chatter and at doing so very quickly. Her partner rarely if ever lied to her during a mission, but he had been known to hide parts of the truth. Nine out of ten times it was about the extent of some wound he had suffered.

"It's a through-and-through, Tasha. Don't worry about it."

"Through and through what, Clint?"

"Huh?"

"Don't play dumb. You're not smart enough."

"Hey!"

"Now, Clinton."

Sigh. "My side."

"Did it hit ribs?"

"Um, I think so?"

"Going in or coming out?"

"Both? I think?"

He had been in the hospital for two weeks after they got back.

The other small percentage of the time that Clint prevaricated over headset had been about emotional things. And when Clint told Abri how he felt about Natasha, Clint had been holding back. But about what?

Now was probably not the best time to think about it. But unlike one of their normal missions where Natasha would now be focused on the mark, instead she was stuck at the remote location with no immediate task except to think about what Clint had left out of the description of his feelings for her.

And Natasha really didn't want to think about that.

She really, really didn't.

_To be continued..._

**Love to hear your thoughts! **


	4. Protector

It wasn't so much that S.H.I.E.L.D.'s information was wrong as it was...left of center, at least as far as it applied to the civilians in question. Their intel on the illegal operations was actually fairly accurate, but then it would be, that was the agency's wheelhouse. The inner workings of young women? Not so much.

Abri van der Merwe did indeed like the strong, confident, alpha male type. She was not, however, a slut who gave her father's secrets by way of pillow talk. On the contrary, Clint had quickly figured out that Abri was very inexperienced sexually. This was most likely due to the fact that a, Abri was more desperate for a protector than a boyfriend, and b, the two guys who tried to fill that role previously figured that out and focused on caretaking as opposed to seducing. Any secrets Abri shared were given as tokens of loyalty and devotion, not romantic love. It was on this that Clint capitalized, as well.

In return she told him everything that S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted to know.

"Wait a minute, your dad told you that you can't go to the fashion show next Friday? Did he say why? Does he know how hard you've worked?"

"No," came the dejected answer. "He thinks I go to fashion shows to watch and hang out or whatever. He doesn't know what I do. When I said I had to go, he told me that it was a lockdown night. We have those sometimes. I'm not allowed to leave the grounds." Her voice became more dejected with each word, and by the end of of her explanation, Abri was barely whispering.

"Tell you what. Let's find out where your dad is going to be that night, and then I'll get you to the fashion district using a route that avoids where he's going to be." Which was actually kind of stupid reasoning, but Clint knew that all Abri heard was him saying that he would take care of her.

"Really? You would – you could do that?"

"Abri. You've been working for four months on this show. You know perfectly well that they would fall apart without you."

Abri blushed as Clint praised her. It was even true. The designers in the Capetown fashion district all knew Abri and exploited her shamelessly, as they would do to anyone with her combination of talent and acute need to please. She sewed garments, styled final looks and absolutely everything she worked on killed in their shows. If possessed of a radically different temperament, Abri van der Merwe could be a very successful designer. As she had neither the self-worth nor ambition, however, to champion her own line, Abri was instead one of the most sought-after assistants in the city. And Clint knew it.

"Think you can find out where your dad is going to be that night?"

Abri smiled. "Absolutely."

Two hours later, S.H.I.E.L.D. had the date, time and location of Daniel van der Merwe's grand underground summit. Over the next several days, Clint continued to build Abri up, escorting her to the increasingly frantic fashion warehouse, assuring her that she was irreplaceable, and that he would not under any circumstances allow her to miss Friday's show.

Keeping Abri busy and acting as her protector provided the side benefit of making her fairly uninterested in her ex. Abri didn't acknowledge either of the man's weak attempts to contact her that week.

All in all, S.H.I.E.L.D. had their information, Clint had his in, and Natasha was set to disrupt the summit. It was a textbook op. On the surface.

The entire mission felt upside-down to both of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s spies. Instead of being on the ground winning trust, Natasha was the voice in Clint's ear, guiding him on what to say and how to play the op. Clint, of course, was down in the weeds building a fake relationship of trust, promising Abri in ways both subtle and not that he would watch over her and keep her safe.

It was likely Natasha was the only person who knew how much Clint was struggling internally. Coulson would, but he wasn't there. Her partner was a soldier, not a spy. Natasha lied to people every time she put on an identity, and she shed the loyalties she built right along with the clothes she wore on the mission. Clint wasn't like that. He didn't make friendships lightly, and he kept them ferociously. And Abri van der Merwe was a genuinely nice girl who really did benefit from having someone to watch over her. Walking away from her was going to tear Clint up inside.

Natasha watched from afar as their mark grew to idolize Jeremy Barron, as the girl settled into a sense of security, of being taken care of. The now sedentary spy listened as her partner gave the girl exactly what she needed without being overbearing, manipulated her into doing exactly what he wanted without the mark having the slightest idea.

Natasha listened as Clint did all of this and having little else to do, it took all of her strength to deny her own reaction to her partner's actions. Had Natasha ever wanted a true life partner, she knew that she could have designed no one better than Clint Barton. She hadn't, though. Her training molded her into a solitary creature, independent and alone, and she had excelled in that conditioning. Cue Clint Barton to enter into her life, turning all of that training on its ear.

Natasha didn't need a protector, nor did she want one. What she could use, what might actually be worth having, was an equal, someone who could keep up with her, even challenge her. Someone who wasn't intimidated by her. Clint Barton.

Oh, yeah, intense attraction didn't hurt.

Maybe...maybe Natasha had been keeping Clint at too much of a distance. Love was a stupid word and a flimsy concept, but equality, compatibility – those she respected, and those Clint supplied. Why was she waiting?

**:::::::**

**:::::**

**:::**

Clint did not think highly of Daniel van der Merwe's protection detail. He and Abri left the estate early Friday afternoon using a slight variation of Abri's previous escape route with none of her father's men the wiser. The two of them arrived in the fashion district and Abri went to work while Clint kept watch.

He and Natasha had determined that while she and the two agents S.H.I.E.L.D. sent in would take down the drug summit, Clint needed to stay with Abri. There was a genuine concern that one of the crime syndicates would try to snatch Van der Merwe's daughter and use her as leverage. Clint didn't particularly care if stopping that was important to S.H.I.E.L.D.; it was important to him.

As Clint listened to Natasha's mission over the comm, his observant eyes scanned the beehive of activity that was the backstage arena of the fashion show, looking for anything that didn't belong. By this time, the sniper was pretty familiar with the majority of the players in the fashion house. Unfortunately there were a lot of new people present to help get ready for the big show.

A chorus of "I need some super glue!", "Where's the silver beaded clutch?!" and "Don't move – I'm trying to pin you!" filled the crowded space. But wait... There...

A slight man dressed all in black had come in via the west entrance and was headed directly for Clint's charge.

Over his comm, Clint heard Natasha call out, "Don't let them get out the back!"

Trusting Natasha to take care of her end, Clint stepped into the Man in Black's path, brought up his knife and sliced the man's right arm to the bone. The man stumbled and his other arm grabbed at the wound.

"Leave," Clint growled at him, their actions quiet enough up to this point that none of the harried civilians running around had yet noticed their little drama.

Whether due to his wound or the tone of Clint's voice it was difficult to tell, but the thug's eyes widened and he turned around, quickly heading back the way he came.

Clint turned around and scanned the rest of the room, but it appeared that the man was acting alone. Apparently Capetown's lowlife population didn't think much of Van der Merwe's security either.

"Hawkeye? You copy?" Natasha's voice called him over the comm.

"Copy, Widow. Sit rep?"

"They started shooting at each other. The ones that are still alive took off. No casualties on our end. You?"

"Chased off an inept kidnapping attempt. Scanning for more now."

"Be ready for extraction tomorrow morning."

"10-4."

An hour later, Clint and Abri were back in the Van der Merwe compound, just in time to hear Daniel van der Merwe having a complete meltdown in the security room.

"YOU'RE FIRED! YOU'RE ALL FIRED! I WANT YOU OUT OF HERE IN AN HOUR!"

"Is now really the best time for you to be without protection, Mr. van der Merwe?" Stewart's tightly strung voice replied.

"You and your men are no better than having NOTHING!"

"We'll be here until you can arrange for adequate replacements, Mr. van der Merwe."

Apparently Stewart had at least a modicum of professional pride.

Clint waited in the hallway as Abri's father stormed towards him.

"I'm out tomorrow morning, too, sir."

Van der Merwe barely spared Clint a glance and continued on his way.

**:::::::**

**:::::**

**:::**

"Are you sure you have to go?" Abri asked as Clint stopped by her room to say goodbye and introduce her to her new (non-S.H.I.E.L.D.) bodyguard.

"My job here is done, Abri. The crisis is over and you're still alive and kicking. Jacob here will take care of you." Abri tried to say something, but Clint cut her off. "He'll take care of you, Abri, but I'm not sure you need it. You have a good job that you're great at, you help people, you do. Just because you're dad doesn't get it doesn't make it any less true. You may need someone to make sure your dad's business associates –" Abri and Clint rolled their eyes together "– don't hurt you, but you are in charge of your life, and it's a good life. Don't be afraid to live it."

Honestly, Clint doubted that his words would have much long-term effect, but he still needed to say them.

"Thank you, Jeremy," Abri reached up to hug the archer. "So much."

"Take care."

**:::::::**

**:::::**

**:::**

On the drive over to the safe house, Clint tried to process the experience. This is what his partner had to do all the time. She had to get to know people, understand them, only to use it against them and then walk away. Here he was having done it only once and he hated himself. No wonder Natasha kept the world at arm's length. It was the only way she could function.

When he arrived on the other side of town at the new safe location, Clint walked in to find an unexpected sight. All of the lights were off, the curtains were drawn, and strategically-placed candles lit up the small living room. An intimate meal for two was set up on the coffee table, the only flat surface in the room. There might as well have been a sign hanging above the door reading "ROMANTIC EVENING".

Clint dropped his bags and looked around in confusion.

"Davitz and Roberts already left."

Natasha stepped out of the doorway to the bedroom, wearing a surprisingly comfortable-looking yet extremely alluring black negligee that immediately set Clint's pulse racing.

"Um...is there a mission I don't know about?" he asked, still confused.

"I had a lot of time to think during this op," Natasha explained as though Clint hadn't said anything at all. She leaned against the doorway, any man's dream of seduction. "I am really hoping that you might be willing to consider changing the nature of our relationship."

Smoothly, Natasha straightened and walked towards the stunned operative, her hips swaying in a manner that could only be described as inviting.

"Um, Natasha? You, uh, you really didn't have to work this hard. I'm, um, well, when it comes to you, I'm pretty easy."

Natasha reached Clint and put her hands up around his neck.

"Good to know," she breathed, right before pressing her lips to his.

Clint gathered her in his arms, returning the kiss with everything he had. If Natasha could do this, there wasn't a chance he hell he wasn't going to follow her. And this relationship he wouldn't ever have to walk away from.

**Epilogue to follow...**


End file.
